


The Golden Rule

by ajeepandleather



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (sorry momma Lester), AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bully Dan, Dan Howell and Phil Lester Are Teenagers, Dan's An Idiot, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Graphic Panic Attack, M/M, Martyn Is Phil's Guardian, Martyn's A Great Brother, POV Phil, Punk Dan, Redemption, Sweet Phil, changing for the better, shy phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9612806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajeepandleather/pseuds/ajeepandleather
Summary: Phil is just looking for some friends when he changes school, what he gets is Dan Howell and that's not a good thing.“Lester, look at me when I talk to you.” I feel another sharp tug to the front of my button up. I keep my eyes steadfastly fixed to the row of lockers to my left, my eyes were assuredly red-rimmed and guys like Dan Howell fed on things like that. “Damnit, Lester.” With the hand not curled around my shirt, Dan yanks my chin so I’m forced to be face-to-face. “Was that so hard?” He patronizes. I shake my head, staring at a pattern of freckles on his cheek rather than meeting his eyes. I knew there was a dimple there, one that rarely came up for the right reasons it seemed. A smirk or snarl would bring up a ghost of what was supposed to be something endearing. A haunting of what could be. “Use your words.”“No.” The word is tight and on the verge of watery so that it’s obvious that I’m about ten seconds away from crying and I hate myself for it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody,  
> So, lemme just say this was a monster to finish and I nearly gave up quite a few times, but here we are and I can't wait to hear what you all say! I've always loved the Punk!Dan and I noticed there weren't many fics to match so I got off my lazy butt and did something about it! I really hope you like it (and I still profusely apologize to the Lesters for essentially killing them off but oh well? I love you? I'm sorry??) and all mistakes are mine because I don't have a beta. Oh and
> 
> WARNING  
> Graphic Depiction of a Panic Attack
> 
> Read responsibily and stuff :))

“Lester, look at me when I talk to you.” I feel another sharp tug to the front of my button up. I keep my eyes steadfastly fixed to the row of lockers to my left, my eyes were assuredly red-rimmed and guys like Dan Howell fed on things like that. “Damnit, Lester.” With the hand not curled around my shirt, Dan yanks my chin so I’m forced to be face-to-face. “Was that so hard?” He patronizes. I shake my head, staring at a pattern of freckles on his cheek rather than meeting his eyes. I knew there was a dimple there, one that rarely came up for the right reasons it seemed. A smirk or snarl would bring up a ghost of what was supposed to be something endearing. A haunting of what could be. “Use your words.”

  “No.” The word is tight and on the verge of watery so that it’s obvious that I’m about ten seconds away from crying and I hate myself for it.

  “You do still have a voice; I was worried you were going mute on me. Haven’t raised your hand in English in ages.” If it weren’t for the harsh, snarky tone, Phil could almost believe he cared. That would be a first. Since moving here a few months ago, no one has cared enough to talk to him, let alone worry about his silences. These times with Dan were the extent of his social interaction – tossed into lockers, shoved into grass, name called in hallways. But, Phil had almost come to appreciate these times with the boy; at least it reminded him he actually existed.

  “What do you care, Dan?” I sigh, no fight left. I just wanted to go home, seeing as how the bell rang nearly ten minutes ago and the hallways were empty. Actually, that was kind of strange. Dan’s usually venue was somewhere public, somewhere with plenty of witnesses. I wriggle a bit in his grasp, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation and just wanting to be home.

  “Did you think I care?” He scoffs.

  “Maybe in some messed up way.” I merely shrug and I’m reminded of his grip on my shirt as it tugs at my shoulders. To my great surprise, Dan laughs. It’s a bitter, empty sound and I hate it more than being shoved into lockers with dial locks rammed into my spine. The sound hurts more.

  “Nobody cares, Lester. Nobody cares about anybody and the sooner you figure that out, the easier your life gets.” He tells me, squinting his eyes like he’s trying to instill the idea in me with the sheer force of his gaze.

  “The lonelier your life gets.” I tell him, maybe too softly because he just scoffs again and shoves me one last time into the lockers before leaving me there. I watch as black skinnies and a tastefully plain leather jacket disappear around the corner. I stand there for a moment in wonder before straightening my button-up and picking up the books Dan had knocked out of my hands earlier.

    I can’t seem to shake him from my thoughts as I walk home, though. I can’t seem to come to terms with the strange way Dan interacts with me, it confuses me just enough to keep my brain whirring through a seemingly endless stream of thoughts. I might have only been here for a few months, but I already knew Dan’s reputation. He was a loner, a lot like myself, and yet at the same time, completely different. Where I was shunned, Dan was reclusive. Dan obviously had no interest in interacting with others or making friends, simply wanted to be left alone. And God have mercy on the fool that tried to challenge that simple wish, Phil had seen it before. A kid named Evan had been just gutsy enough, just stubborn enough to ignore Dan’s warning glares and terse words to leave him be. Evan continued to follow him at lunch, without malicious intent just wanting to get to know the boy, when Dan finally lashed out. He had yelled at the boy to leave and Evan made the grave mistake to laugh and barely made it a couple words into “I just want to be friends” when Dan’s fist made a solid connection to his jaw.

   It was clear message;  _ he wanted to be left alone.  _ It was a message that Phil was sure to receive the first day at his new school. He had no idea about the boy’s antisocial standing when he wandered into the lunchroom, simply saw another lonely kid and had hopes of a new friend. Maybe they could bond over the how they had no one else, a friendship made through necessity and desperation was a friendship nonetheless. That hope was quickly doomed when he sat down at Dan’s (known as Hopeful Friend at the time) table and was swiftly fixed with a steady glare from brown eyes encased in lines of black. Phil of the Past smiled sheepishly and lowered himself cautiously into the seat across from Hopeful Friend. Phil remembers panicking a bit, thinking maybe he had sat in someone else’s spot and had just made himself look incredibly stupid by sitting here, but that ended up being the least of his problems. 

   “Hi, I’m Phil.” He had raised his hand in a tentative wave to which Hopeful Friend had scoffed at with a small roll of his eyes. Phil had been a little taken aback and maybe a bit disheartened by the lack of response that followed. “I’m new here.” His words had struggled a bit around the lump in his throat, still on the train of thought that made him believe he had royally screwed up.

   “No shit.” Hopeful Friend had finally replied. His voice was gruff like he barely used it and had to force words. Phil’s eyes had widened considerably, his heart sinking.

   “I, uh, I was wondering if-“

   “No.”

   “But, you don’t know-“

   “You want to sit with me for some deranged reason. No.” Phil could painfully recall the way his heart had begun to pound at that point and his mouth dry up. He blinked several times in shock before dropping his gaze from The Boy’s and stood on slightly unsteady knees and picked up his lunch bag with shaky hands. He managed a raspy apology before hurrying away and going to sit outside under a tree, as far away from the cafeteria and The Boy as possible.

   I shook my head when I realized I had just bumped into my front door because it hadn’t opened when I had pushed down the handle.  The door was locked. I pull out my keys and manage to make it inside to dump my stuff inside the house rather than all over the porch.

   “Martyn?” I call out into a house I know is empty. Martyn never locks the door when he’s home, says the neighborhood is too nice for things like that. I walk into the kitchen and sure enough, there’s a note on the counter and a covered pot on the stove. 

_ Hey Kiddo _

_ Emergency company meeting in Brixton, I’ll probably be gone for a few days to a week depending on Mike and whatever whacked up plans he has for this video project. I made spaghetti so you don’t try to survive on popcorn and Ribena. When I get back, let’s go to Valentino’s, I heard they have the best pizza in town and I need some honest-to-God authentic Italian pizza. Make good choices. _

__ I smile down at the note before putting it down and serving myself some of the spaghetti. I reheat it in the microwave and it ends up a little cold in the middle, but I don’t mind enough to do anything about it. I situate myself on the couch and sit criss cross applesauce so I can put bowl of spaghetti in my lap while I fiddle with my phone to pull up Tumblr. I didn’t indulge in too many social media sites and it wasn’t because I was some crazy anti-technology person. I loved technology and the ability to keep in touch with anyone and everyone with a few quick taps of a key board. I just didn’t have anyone to keep in contact with. I sigh and will myself to not follow that grim thought process, and rather thank the Lord for Martyn because heck yeah he installed the TV today. 

   I flip on the TV and surf through the variety of channels before giving up and switching over to Netflix. It was like easing into a familiar bed, the way I slipped into another season of Friends. That’s not to say I haven’t watched this season three times before. There was just something really comforting about watching this rag-tag group of people struggle from everything from things as ridiculous as assuming a maid stole your jeans and the struggles of a backwards relationship. This show had been a part of my life for a long time, Martyn tells me about how our parents would sit me down in front of a TV with a normal kids show and I’d wander off in less than ten minutes. But put me down with a Friends a marathon and you wouldn’t have to worry about where I would be for hours.

There’s another trail of thoughts I actively avoided. Somedays, it was easier than others, being okay with Mom and Dad being gone. It was easier when Martyn was around to fill the house with noise. When he would burn dinner or leave his stereo on just loud enough to be distracting or when they had game nights that usually dissolved into game pieces being thrown or a truce because one more game of Mario Kart would end up being six. But on nights like these, when I was sat in an empty house, it became abundantly clear that I was alone. The house felt dead, which seemed appropriate. After the car accident, Martyn did everything he could to keep me distracted and it wasn’t all in vain, just most of it. I still had nightmares and I still refused to talk about it, but it could be worse. At least I got to keep Martyn, out of all of the things I’ve lost; at least I got to keep him.

   Although, having your older brother as your legal guardian has its own issues, at least in the eyes of a responsible adult. Like the ability to convince said guardian to get take away for dinner for the third night in a row because honestly, neither of you can cook to save your lives. Or the power of puppy eyes actually working to get you out of school (although, that one is becoming increasingly rare the older I get). But it never failed to serve as a reminder of how truly lucky I was. I could have been thrown in foster care, doomed to bounce from home to home until I finally aged out of the system. Or, worst of all, Martyn be taken in the same crash their parents died in. No, let’s not think of that, it’s much more fun to focus on how Ross managed to make his relationship with Rachel worse, even with the best intentions in mind.

\---

   “Alright class, we’re going to review your reading assignment, given to you last month. Can anyone summarize  _ The Things They Carried  _ for me?” Ms. Watchel glanced around the class looking for either a hand raised or a victim to pick on. I notice the way her eyes flick to Dan momentarily, who sat in the far back corner of the room, before continuing her search. I knew her thought process –  _ pick your battles.  _ See, calling on Dan was just a bad idea if you wanted the class to get anywhere. Why? Because it seemed like Dan played a game of sorts, one that involved his absolute silence. It was as if crossing the threshold of any classroom instantly rendered him a mute. No amount of prying or risk of detention ever fazed him, he simply sighed and stared the teacher down until they gave in and moved on. I could remember just last year Dan had been rumored to have stared down even ancient Ms. Greengard for an entire class period and walked away with a months’ worth of after school detention. I’m snapped back to the present by Ms. Watchel picking someone to answer.

   “ _ The Things They Carried  _ was about the soldiers who fought in Vietnam and the various problems they encountered. It also had a lot to say about the literal things they kept with them while they were at war.” A girl towards the front of the room obviously looked proud of her answer, smiling at the teacher.

   “Thank you, Ms. Lee. Yes, Tim O’Brien’s novel was exactly that. Now, can anyone tell me what stood out to you? A quote that may have caught your attention?” Our teacher prompts. The students around me proceed to list off different moments from the novel that they liked or found interesting. The man who carried “love” letters with him. The weight of all the gear they had to carry. The shooting of the water buffalo. All these strange bits of information and emotional moments were listed, but no one was reacting. Sure they might say “it was sad when…” and “it was strange to hear about…” but they never really reacted. That’s the thought that pushes me to raise my hand for the first time in over two weeks.

   “Yes, Mr. Lester?”

   “I think we’re forgetting that O’Brien is making a statement about war and the effects it has on people and their humanity. As the men continued to die around him, O’Brien was losing his humanity. When Tom Lavender died, it wasn’t just the guy that died, but the things he represented. The men slowly lost their hope to make it home and any pleasant way they thought of the world.” Ms. Watchel smiled and I glowed at how obviously proud she looked.

   “Mr. Lester, you really should have taken the advance course.” I blush and duck my head, not willing to explain that I came too late to catch up on the summer homework required to be in the Advanced Placement class. Not willing to remind everyone of why I was alone.

   “Miss? I think I have a quote here from page twenty I’d like to share.” A voice I can’t help but recognize sounds from the back of the room. It could almost be considered hilarious how noticeably still the entire room becomes. 

   “Well, I, uh, of course, Mr. Howell. Feel free to share it with us.” Ms. Watchel stutters in pure astonishment.

   “Page twenty reads,  _ “They were actors. When someone died, it wasn’t quite dying, because in a curious way it seemed scripted”.  _ And I really appreciated that quote because it’s universally relatable. We’re all just actors on a stage we call Life and pretend breathing doesn’t hurt as much as it does.”

  The class sits in a stunned silence, attempting to digest what Dan had said. It was strange how no one scoffed or laughed, but took it in. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded pretentious, but coming from Dan it just sounded right.

   “Thank you, Mr. Howell that was very insightful of you.” Ms. Watchel finally snaps out of her shock and attempts to move the class along. All too soon, the class is back to pointing out important scenes and various quotes and discussing their meaning. Of course, none of them sound as deep as Dan’s had, but that’s alright because I wasn’t listening. I was stuck somewhere from five minutes ago, unsure of how to press this new information into the Dan Howell mold. 

   “Now class, you’re going to get a project that will be due in two weeks. I want you to identify a theme from the novel and choose a quote to support it then explain to me how this theme applies to your life personally.” I nod along, already planning any ideas I might have before Ms. Watchel drops a bomb. “And you’ll be working in pairs, so go ahead and take the next few minutes to find a partner.” 

   I sigh heavily and grab my copy of the book and flip through the pages as the rest of my peers scramble to find their friends. I know there are an odd number of people in the class so I resign myself to waiting out the choosing process before asking Ms. Watchel to let me work on my own. It was a pretty easy plan, one that had worked before in the past, but that plan was quickly ruined by a pair of combat boots that appear next to my desk. I take a deep breath before looking up to a black clad chest.

   “My eyes are up here, Lester.” I let out the breath in a huff before making eye contact. “Look at that, someone is finally understanding eye contact.” The laugh is harsh and grating.

   “I’m really not up for this right now.”

   “You’re never up for anything it seems.”

   “Aren’t you supposed to be finding a partner?” I finally sigh, hoping he’ll just leave. I didn’t want to deal with Dan, not now, not when I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what he presented to the class. I’m tossed out of my thoughts by a hand cuffing the back of my head.

   “I’m looking at him.” I feel myself recoil from him at the thought. Two weeks? With him? He wants to spend the next two weeks with me, who he obviously despises, to work on a project that will reveal personal insight? I must have something along those lines out loud because Dan being a mind reader would be just too much to handle. “Yes, you dipshit, I want to be a partner with you. Why? Because you seem to be the only other person in this room that has anything worth writing about.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the wiry muscle pulled taunt.

   “And what if I don’t want to be your partner?” I meant it to be casual, a jab of sorts, but my voice wavers and kills the effect. A smirk pulls at Dan’s lips as he leans in causing me to lean back as far as my chair would let me. Of course, that wouldn’t be very far seeing as how this school loves to get the desks that have the chairs attached. So, I only move back a few inches before being trapped by the bar that connects them. 

   “Well, that really isn’t an option, seeing as how Margret, Alice and Jane made a group of three and there isn’t anyone else available.” I glance around the room, not wanting to believe how truly trapped I am. Sure enough, Dan has me cornered and I let out a heavy sigh because if there was one sound effect to summarize my life, that’d be it.

   “Fine.”

   “Wasn’t asking permission, Lester.” Dan just plunks down into the desk next to mine and props his feet out in the aisle, kicking at my own.

    “Whatever. Did you have any ideas for the theme?” I turn back to my book and start to flip through it again, in hopes of an acceptable idea popping out with neon lights telling me I should write a paper about it. What I hear is even more startling than if that had actually happened.

   “I was thinking about how in the book, the men don’t just carry heavy gear and mementos from home. They also have a lot of emotional baggage like guilt or shame and fear. The book’s title is literal and figurative.” I look over with my mouth dropped just a tab bit and stare at Dan who just casually has his fingers laced behind his head. He doesn’t seem to notice or is pointedly ignoring my shocked stare, so I decide to pull myself together and push forward.

   “Alright, uh, so how does that relate to you personally?” I start to scribble down what Dan had already said, my mind buzzing with the possibilities for how the essay could go. It takes a few minutes, but it doesn’t go without notice that Dan hasn’t responded. “Dan?” I prompt, looking up at him expectantly. 

    “No.” He keeps his face still, too still and it’s chilling in a way to see just how in control he is of his reactions.

   “What do you mean ‘no’?” I caution the question, maybe with a pinch of irritation.

   “Exactly what you think it means.”

   “So, you must be calling yourself a belligerent asshole, then.” In less time than it takes to blink, Dan is in my face with a snarl that could make a grown man whimper. 

   “Watch your mouth, Lester.” His voice is dark and sends my heart into a frenzy as my fight or flight kicks in. If my mouth and throat weren’t so dry I might have whimpered myself. 

   “Sorry.” My voice is soft and I can’t help the way I avert my gaze and shrink in my seat. Dan has never actually hit me, not a solid punch or anything, but I wouldn’t put it beyond his capabilities or willingness if I managed to piss him off enough. The bell rings and my first instinct is to bolt, make a run for the door and out of here before things could get any worse, but Dan is still looming over me threateningly. He slowly eases away, but that doesn’t mean my anxiety does, just sits in the bottom of my gut as I shakily put my things in my bag and stand on wobbly knees.

   The gnawing, poisonous feeling doesn’t dissolve for the rest of the day, more like it slowly heightens as the minutes tick by. Everything seems to be adding to the tense and ever tightening feeling in my bones. The tick of the clock is too loud, the constant murmur of my peers just past my ability to comprehend leading me to the worst things they  _ could  _ be saying. My throat feels too tight and I can’t seem to drink enough water. It all comes to a head in my last period Physics class when I have my eyes squeezed shut and fingers in my ears, hoping to just have a moment of  _ peace.  _

   “Mr. Lester?” I hear my teacher’s voice like it’s coming to me through eight feet of water. I’m already on edge and all I want is for him to just go away, but of course no public school would ever consider training their staff for panic attacks to be a worthwhile use of budget. He puts a hand on my shoulder. 

   I gasp and before anything else can attack me I’m up and out of the room, running on unstable legs and hoping against hope that whatever’s after me will just  _ leave me alone.  _ I don’t know where I’m going or if I’m going anywhere. I can tell I’m running, pumping my arms and moving my legs, but at the same time I can’t. It’s all too much to handle, but not enough to feel real. And suddenly I’m at the bottom of a tree. I’m sitting, with my shoulder against the rough bark breathing like someone whose come back from nearly drowning. I don’t notice for several minutes that I’m not alone.

   When I see the brown eyes encased in lines of black I attempt to scramble farther away, but only manage to slam myself into the tree behind me, whacking my head. The pain doesn’t register though, as my heart rate sky rockets yet again and all I can coherently think is  _ run run run.  _  Dan just sits there, skinny jean clad legs crossed Indian style, watching my panic attack unfold. He doesn’t watch in a way that would normally unnerve me, that overly concerned eye that feels too probing, too invasive. His gaze is simple and something I can’t quite put my finger on. Once my brain seems to realize Dan isn’t a threat (at least, not at the moment), my brain sends the signal to my lungs to take in proper air. 

    “What happened, Phil?” He asks quietly, voice devoid of its usual edge. He doesn’t sound phased or quite like he cared, but he didn’t sound mocking. I didn’t feel laughed at or attacked. After a few moments of deadened silence, Dan speaks again. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk, but let’s get you out of here. If we stay here, a supervisor is going to come by and start shit about us being out of class.” He sounds almost earnest. All I can manage is a nod, brain not functioning farther than keeping air in my lungs. I almost expect him to sigh or roll his eyes like he normally would, treating me like the burden I am to him, but none of it comes.

   “I’m going to take you to my car. We’re going to get in and all I need you to do is point to where I turn. Just focus on the steps to getting to your house, alright?” Dan speaks slowly, giving me a procedure to follow and I find my brain latches on to the idea of a task and the step by step of how to complete it. We reach his car, a beat up 90s Toyota Corolla and we get in and I let myself just walk through the steps of it.  _ First leg, bend down, sit, second leg, pull door closed, reach for the belt, draw it across you, click, hands in your lap.  _  It was simple and easy, something to focus on and accomplish even if the task was menial.

   Dan starts up the car and pulls it out of the school lot smoothly. He stops at the stop sign at the end of the school’s driveway. And waits. Doesn’t stare me down, just sits with the car idling until I manage to raise my shaky hand and point to the left. It only takes a couple minutes to drive there, compared to my twenty-five-minute walk. 

   “It’s the little green house. With the ugly white truck out front.” It’s the first time I had spoken since Dan had found me and I could feel the way the words dragged painfully in my throat. Dan just pulls into the half empty driveway and shuts the car off. I look to him a little questioningly.

   “I’m not going to just drop you off. Knowing you, you’ll trip over your own feet and then feel like too much of a burden to call an ambulance for a broken arm.” Dan scoffs. I don’t have the voice or diligence to argue so I get out of the car and go through the motions of coming home.  _ One foot out, next foot, watch your head, twelve steps to the door, pull out your keys, stop shaking, key in the lock, turn the key, now the knob, push open the door.  _ I walk in and find I don’t have a bag to drop and just stare dumbly at the spot on the floor where my backpack usually lands. I hear Dan sigh behind me. “Phil, you have to move.” I do as I’m told and continue on into the house.

   “I’ll be fine.” I rasp out, heading to the kitchen to sit at the table. 

   “Don’t lie to me.” It’s a simple command, sharp and to the point, I flinch. I keep my eyes on my feet while I listen to Dan work through my kitchen, cursing under his breath. After some amount time a cup of water it pressed into my field of vision. I accept it, my hands having become steadier as time had passed. 

   “Works for everyone else.” I manage a mumble after downing half the glass.

   “Not me.” Dan takes a seat at the head of the table where I can glance up and see him easily. It’s Martyn’s spot.

   “What happened to not caring?” I risk the question, apprehension tugging in my gut.

   “I’m not heartless, Phil.” I scrunch up my nose, not understanding how you could do all of this and still insist you don’t care. He was  _ taking care  _ of me, which had to mean something.

   “Why is this time different?”

   “What do you mean?”

   “I cry all the time when you do thing to me. Why did you ca- were you nice this time?” I can’t maintain the eye contact so I drop my gaze to the last drops of water at the bottom of my glass and watching them drag around while I turn it in my hand.

   “Golden rule.”

   “Treat others the way you want to be treated?” 

   “That’d be it, Lester.” He sighs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over a t-shirt supporting The Offspring.

   “But you torment me and slam my books out of my hands and say all those horrible things and now you’re helping me after a panic attack-“

   “Panic attacks are like Death without the relief that Death eventually brings. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone because it’s a torture that we provide for ourselves.” 

   “But you want to be bullied?”

   “No, Phil, not quite.” With that he stands and walks out the front door before I can even think of another question.

 

\---

   The next day, it took a lot of deep breaths to enter my Physics class and retrieve my backpack. It was awkward and strange and horrible because I’m sure Mr. Clemens tried to call out to me, but I darted out the door. The rest of the day was easier, nothing out of the normal and minimal work to get done. The day was almost too easy. Of course that wouldn’t last for long.

   I sat at my desk, scribbling ideas for the project with Dan when the devil himself plunked down next to me. I began a game of ignoring him, simply pretended I couldn’t see the grey stone washed jeans at the edge of my field of vision and that I couldn’t hear the music blaring out of the headphones around his neck. I pretended I couldn’t feel his heavy gaze, lied to myself about how horrible it felt now that I knew it would feel better than this. 

   “I thought of a topic-“

   “Eye contact.” 

    “Sorry.” The breath I take pulls at the capacity of my lungs, but I let it out steadily and lift my head, letting my eyes follow the movement.

   “I thought we could talk about lies. Your quote was about how they were pretending the deaths weren’t as sad by acting. I thought we could talk about the other things they lied about to save face and stuff.” My voice trails off at the end as my confidence withers under Dan’s gaze.

   “No.”

   “Oh, uh, alright. We could try something els-“

   “No. Tell me again, like you mean it.” Dan crosses his arms and looks at me like he’s waiting. I swallow and try to rethink my words.

   “We should talk about lies as a theme because you already had a good quote and I had some ideas as well. So, yeah.”

   “And stuff. So, yeah,” Dan tilts his head back as he mocks my voice, “Don’t downplay your statement like that.” Dan brings himself forward, elbows on his knees. “Be confident in what you have to say.”

   “Wouldn’t you like it better if I was cowering in fear with a stutter?” I don’t know where the sass comes from, but I know where it goes. It sinks to the bottom of my gut like lead when I see Dan’s eyes darken.

   “Watch it, Lester.” My eyes drop to my feet with a muttered apology and Dan doesn’t comment on it for the rest of class. We sit in silence while the teacher goes on about the guidelines to our essay. As soon as she releases us I scramble to put my things away so I can jump for the door at the first ring of the bell. I’m stopped with a firm hand on my forearm. 

   “Dan?”

   “We need to talk about the project.”

   “Last time I tried that we didn’t get very far.” Dan narrows his eyes and I feel that lead weight in my stomach again. 

   “How else are we supposed to do this essay?”

   “Well, I thought I could just do it all. I have an idea to work with and I can just make something up for your personal bit. Simple.” I shrug lightly, reminded of Dan’s grip in the movement. It seems odd how easily I forget when he’s touching me, how easy it is to allow myself to forget the supposed threat.

   “No.” The bell rings and I manage to pull away and sling my back pack over my shoulder. I make it out into the hallway before an all too familiar hand clamps down on my shoulder, bringing me to an abrupt halt.

   “Dan, I need to go to class.” It’s nearly a whine, a plead really, but all I get is an eye roll for my efforts.

   “What you really need is to not be so jumpy.”

   “Maybe I would be if I wasn’t so accustomed to every touch from you hurting.” The statement started out with that uncharacteristic sass I had developed recently, but ended in the original Phil mumble. Dan looks at me for just a second too long before slipping his hand back down to my forearm and tugging. I can’t help but notice how the grip may be firm, but isn’t painful. I’m so confused by the kinda-sorta gentleness that I don’t notice I’m letting myself be carted off from the school and into the parking lot. It isn’t until I see a familiar Toyota Corolla in the near distance that I start to struggle. “Dan, you’re kidnapping me.” I tug on my arm and can almost perfectly imagine the look of annoyance on Dan’s face.

   “It’s not kidnap if you’re willingly walking with me.” I stop in the middle of the parking lot, causing Dan to stop. Thank God, too, or else I would have fell flat on my face considering how strong he really is. 

   “Willing my ass.” I tug on my arm again, attempting to break free. I still had classes to go to and homework to be assigned and following a bully into his car wasn’t on the agenda. 

   “Come on, Lester.” He yanks back and I nearly topple for half a second before catching myself. 

   “To quote someone I believe you admire, ‘no’.” I huff. He tries to pull me forward again and I surprise even myself with what I do next – I sit down. Right in the middle of the parking lot, I drop to my butt and cross my legs Indian style. Willingly walking, yeah. Right. 

   “Phil.” Maybe I’ve developed a soft spot for Dan using my first name, but that doesn’t mean I’ll just let myself be kidnapped because Dan is able to put aside being a twat for a single syllable. I looked up at Dan, making very deliberate eye contact and straightened my back.

  “No.” For a fraction of a second, Dan looked impressed, but the look quickly vanished. Before I could blink, Dan was crouched down next to him and all up in his personal bubble, glare turned on and aggression radiation at full capacity.

   “If you’re going to be difficult, I’m going to do this my way. I don’t think you’ll like my way.” I swallow thickly at the threat, but if that fraction of a second was anything to go by, it was that sticking up for myself was a good way to stay alive. But where did Dan draw the line? Where did standing up stop being novel and become aggravating? What would set him off? Apparently I sat too long in my own thoughts because with a muttered explicative, Dan was scooping me up like a bag of potatoes and tossing me over his shoulder.

   “Dan!” My voice reaches a shrill pitch in a short amount of time. All I can see is the ground and the back of Dan’s legs as I dangle over his shoulder. I try to scramble back up, but my hands can find a purchase on anything. Dan bounces me up a bit as he walks, almost as a warning to cut it out which produces a squeak out of me and a very prompt end to my wiggling. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Dan grunted his approval. Not soon enough, Dan put me back on solid ground next to the passenger door of his car.

   “Do I need to “help” you into the car as well?” The air quotes around ‘help’ were heavily implied and I am quick to shake my head and duck into the car.

   “At least tell me where we’re going.” I sigh, buckling up, because safety first and all. 

   “There’s a really great Mexican place over by a park off of Dunnigan Street. Best fish tacos in Great Britain.”  

“ What if I don’t like fish tacos?” I ask as he settles in his seat and buckles. I cross my arms, not to look petulant or aggressive, but as a defense. I still don’t know where Dan draws the line.

   “You love fish tacos.” Is all he says, and he’s right. I just wonder how he knows. When no further complaint escapes me, Dan starts the car and we leave the school for the second time this week before the final bell rings. This campus really needs better security, what with kids just waltzing away like this and all. 

  It’s not long before we reach the Mexican place Dan was talking about. It’s a small place with a large front window that shows off a small little grocery mart and a butcher’s counter in the back. Dan walks in and up to the cashier, ordering two plates of fish tacos and getting a receipt for his money. Then he turns to the back of the store and heads toward the butcher. That’s where we stand to wait and I realize that there’s not only a deli but a small kitchen back here. Our order is placed on the counter and Dan trades them for his receipt and a tip. Without a word, Dan leads us outside and I sit on the curb where Dan makes himself comfortable.

   “These better be some amazing fish tacos, I’m going to have to make up a calculus test from them.” I sigh as I sit next to him. 

   “Mark makes them with this chili powder seasoning that nothing can match. They’re awesome, now eat them.” Dan hands me a plate, looking at me expectantly until I lift one to my mouth. But I stop.

   “Mark?”

   “Yeah, Mark. Now eat.”

   “Mark just sounds so … American.” Dan looks at me like I’m crazy and I nearly laugh because I’ve never seen such a confused look on his face. “I was thinking he’d be named something like Juan Carlo or at least Marco.”

   “Goddamnit, Phil, just eat the fucking taco.” Now I giggle, but it turns more into a squeak when Dan grows obviously impatient and grabs my wrist to shove the taco closer to my mouth. To my great surprise, they’re amazing. The spice is mixed into the batter perfectly and it’s fried to perfection. The lime juice isn’t over powering and the tortilla is fresh. “Good?” Dan asks.

   “Perfect.” Is all I can manage as I hurry to take another bite. Dan snorts and picks up his own taco and I realize he hasn’t touched his food before now. As he starts to eat, Dan continues to watch me and as much as the taco is delicious, I can’t swallow over the lump in my throat. His gaze turns quizzical and that only makes my mouth dry and I start to cough a bit. He gets up and I manage to choke the bite down before Dan returns with a bottle of water. He sits in silence while I drink.

   “I can’t eat when people watch me.” I mumble.

   “What?”

   “I can’t eat when someone is looking at me, it makes me uncomfortable.” I shrug a bit and look away.

   “Alright.” Dan goes back to eating but I notice the way he keeps his eyes focused on the cars as they zoom past us on the street. Fight me for smiling just a little bit.

   “What do you do for fun?” I ask, not minding the silence but just wanting to figure Dan out, because the more I think about it the more questions I have.

   “Read.” Well, that’s helpful. Very insightful.

   “What kind of books?”

   “Lots of things. Mystery, histories, fantasy, science fiction. I like losing myself in a good book.” Dan stands with his now empty plate and holds out a hand for mine. I stand as I hand it over and we walk to the trashcan. “Do you want to see them? I have at least four shelves at my house.” The question almost sounds tentative; like he’s not sure I’ll agree.

   “At least?” I smile, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

   “Well, I have a bunch stacked on the floor too, might add up to another shelf.” He leads us back to his car and I can’t see his face. But he can’t hide the smile while we’re buckling up.

   “Well, this I have to see.” 

\---

   “You weren’t kidding.” My eyes go wide as I enter Dan’s room.  _ The lion’s den.  _ And maybe I should be afraid, this is my bully’s own room, but I don’t and that’s what scares me.

   “I like my books.” Is all he says with a shrug, tossing his jacket on a grayscale checkered comforter. His room is kept neat and plain and I feel like I know nothing more about Dan than the first day I came to my new high school. “Feel free to peruse, I’m sure you’ll find something that accommodates to your liking.”  I lift an eyebrow at his word choice. 

   “Nice vocabulary, I –“

   “You call me posh or snobby and I’ll knock your teeth out.” Dan practically growls.

   “I was going to say ‘I wish I could hear it more, but you seem to have taken a vow of silence’.” I turn to him, my eyes wide partially at the way he had snapped and also out of fear. But mostly, my mind was reeling with what had set him off. “Sorry.”

    “You’re always sorry. Hell, I’ve seen you get knocked into in the hallway and then apologize like it was your fault the asshole wasn’t paying attention. Not everything is your fault, Phil.”

     “You don’t sound snobby, it’s eloquent.” I don’t know where the words come from, but their suddenly out in the open and Dan is just staring at me. It makes me nervous, jitters lie under my skin at the way his eyes stay fixed on me like I just Apparated in front of him. I duck my head and scrub at my arm, trying to calm the nerves underneath, but to no avail. I gasp when I feel the fingers under my chin, tilting my face up. Dan was right in front of me, eyes still a little wide.  _ Maybe a little in awe, _ I think to myself. But why would he – all thought is lost when soft lips touch mine. I inhale sharply. I stand stock still, fists clenched at my sides and eyes wide with the perfect view of Dan’s temple with how he’s tilted his head and – oh, he’s moving his lips. Oh, he’s kissing me. He’s kissing me. Shit, that isn’t okay.

   It’s like an electro shock zaps through me, suddenly my hands are up and shoving against his chest, dislodging his lips and the surprise causes him to take a few stumbling steps back. My eyes are still wide and now my jaw hangs a bit, taking in Dan’s fuzzy gaze and flushed cheeks, before he shakes his head and looks back with clearer eyes.

   “Phil?”

   “You kissed me.” My voice is still painfully soft and weak and a little breathy as my lungs try to work right.  _ My first kiss. _

   “Yeah … I did.” He sounds a little surprise, but also like he was proud of himself. The corners of his lips start to tug up, that is until he manages to snap out of it enough to actually take in my facial expression. “Phil, what’s wrong? Why did you …”

   “Push you away?” I look him in the eye as I start to feel something build up in my gut. ”Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you just jumped me.” As the words come out, the more the feeling builds. “You can’t just do that, Dan, you … you just can’t!” I flap my arms a bit for emphasis.

   “But, I thought …I thought you were …”

   “What?”

   “I thought you wanted me to.” Dan shrugs like it’s nothing, like stealing first kisses is no big deal, like nothing about this is wrong. But something is very wrong, and all feeling of self-preservation goes out the proverbial window when I decide that’s something Dan needs to hear. 

   “Well, I didn’t! You can’t just go around kissing people, Dan! That isn’t okay and you should have asked, not like it would have changed my answer, but you still should have!” I continue the flailing, realizing Dan had aborted an attempt to get closer when I had done it.

   “I thought you would like it. That you liked me.” There he goes with that godawful shrug again like none of this really mattered.

   “No! I didn’t like it!” My voice is rising up and becoming increasingly shrill, “I didn’t want me first kiss to be with the guy who has made my life a living Hell for the past five months!” I yell, feeling my face flush with anger, the flailing increases.

  “That was your first kiss?” Dan gapes at me, eyes widening.

  “Yes, it was my first flipping kiss! Shy nobodies like me aren’t exactly experienced in the romance department and now you’ve gone and ruined it like you ruin everything else for me!” I’m properly losing my shit at this point.

__ “ Phil, calm down, I thought that –“

   “I’m not going to calm down, you just kissed me and I don’t know why, seeing as how you seem to like to make me suffer most other times!” My chest heaves with the exertion of trying to get my point across, since Dan doesn’t seem to be understanding if I’m going off the confused look he’s giving me.

   “I kissed you because I like you and I thought you liked me too –“

   “Did you think this was some kind of romantic movie where we get together just because you happen to not be a complete dick a couple times? Do you really think that makes up for everything else you’ve done?” 

   “But I did that for a reason –“

   “That’s rich.” I laugh mirthlessly, and a small part of me is surprised by this new, cold version of myself. “Well, go on; try to explain it all away.” I cross my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow expectantly. 

   “I was mean because I couldn’t go soft on you, I’ve always been silent and everyone’s learned to leave me alone, but if I go soft for you then that would all go away. And God, you’re just so  _ soft.  _ You would be torn apart in the real world and I didn’t want to see that happen so I was trying to help you and now you’re standing up to me and I thought that you were starting to like me and so I decided ‘what the Hell’ and kissed you.” Dan rambles, eyes glued to the floor.

   “You were tryinG TO HELP ME?” I screech, flashing through all the times Dan has snapped orders at me like keeping eye contact and keeping my back straight and talking with confidence. “YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT FOR THE PAST FIVE MONTHS WHILE YOU’VE BEEN EMOTIONALLY ABUSING ME YOU WERE  _ HELPING  _ ME?” I’m actually losing it now, properly off my rocker as I scream at Dan because the boy must be out of his bloody mind. 

   “Yeah, Phil, that’s what I said.” Dan looks a little startled now, a little on edge as the confusion really seems to take root as to why I haven’t plastered myself to him from face to toes. 

   “Yeah, I don’t know how you think you were helping –“

   “You’re just too soft, Phil! You back down and give in all the time and don’t even get me started with the apologizing –“

   “You’re calling me weak?” My voice is going shrill again and I feel my heartbeat resonate through me. I’ve never been so angry in my life, I am generally a calm person, but this was absolute bullshit.

   “Well, you’re not exactly a force to be reckoned wi-“ Dan is abruptly cut off with _ soft _ knuckles that manage to not  _ back down _ when they collide with his jaw. The resounding crack is immensely satisfying to hear and totally worth the instant pain that shoots up my arm.

  “You’re a jackass, Dan.” And with that and the lovely image of Dan knocked back on his ass, sprawled out on the floor, I turn on my heel and slam his door as I leave. I stomp out of the house and storm down the sidewalk as I make my way home in a cloud of emotions that swirl around me. I let my rage carry me the two miles back to my front door, blowing off as much steam as I could without becoming a cartoon character with it coming out of my ears. 

   He thought he was helping me? Did he really believe that? Dan somehow got it in his head that by humiliating me and pushing me around, he was  _ helping  _ me. My heart is still in my throat and my knuckles ache in a way that I don’t find entirely unpleasant. I march up the stair and into my room, holding nothing back as I slam the door. I collapse on my bed and just lie there, face down unsure of how to proceed.

   “What’s the door ever do to you, kiddo?” I flip out a bit at the sound of the voice, falling off the bed and landing in a heap. I stare up at a familiar mop of ginger hair and bright eyes just starting to wrinkle in the hopes of a smile. 

   “Martyn!” I jump up and tackle him in the biggest bear hug a gangly limbed teenager can manage. My brother laughs and stumbles a bit as his arms come around me in a tight squeeze. 

   “Hey, Phillip. Mind telling me what made you go all Terminator on your door? I’m decently paid, but those are expensive to replace.” I sigh and disentangle from the hug and slump back to the floor. Martyn doesn’t give a second thought before plunking down Indian style across from me. 

   “There’s this guy-“

   “Oooh.” Martyn wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and I toss a pillow that had fallen during my flailing earlier at his face.

   “It’s not like that.” 

   “Oops, continue.” Martyn whirls his hand as if verbal confirmation for me to restart my story wasn’t enough.

   “There’s this guy that been pushing me around at school-“

   “Why didn’t you tell me, Phil?” Martyn’s got that look on his face that he had developed over the years. The “parent” look.

   “Cause it wasn’t a big deal, never anything serious and it’s not like I can’t handle myself. I’m not 10, Martyn, I’m a big boy.” I huff, straightening up as if the physically prove my abilities to handle myself.

   “Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay-“

   “And that this isn’t like last time, yeah, I know. It’s fine now quit interrupting. His name’s Dan, and it was nothing, really. But then we got assigned for a project together and he did a couple nice things, and I thought we might be friends.” God knows I haven’t had one of those in a while. “But we went to his house to work on it-“ Martyn shoots me the look again but I ignore him, I’m seventeen, big deal, “and we had been talking. I don’t know, one second he was just looking at me and then-“ This time I cut myself off. I look down at my lap, tugging at my pants, my shirt, the pillow that Martyn had passed back.

   “Phil?”

   “He kissed me.” My voice is significantly more quiet as I utter the phrase, like all those years of Martyn pestering me to quit mumbling had flown out the window.

  “Phil-“ Martyn’s has quickly changed from  _ I’m-the-big-brother-here-to-help  _ to  _ I’m-the-guardian-here-to-protect.  _

   “No, Martyn, it wasn’t like that! He didn’t hurt me or like attack me, he just surprised me! I pushed away and he moved, okay?” Martyn still looks a little tense and skeptical but he nods anyway so I continue.

   “Apparently, he thought I liked him and he likes me, but I yelled at him and asked why he would push me around if he liked me and he said it was to help me because I’m too soft and shit I’m crying.” I sniff as my nose starts to feel runny and my eyes burn and my words are getting all choked up. Martyn shuffles so he’s next to me and rest an arm across my shoulders. “He said I was too soft and I punched him and left. Sorry you had to come home to my boy problems.” I’m sniffling again and wipe a sleeve across my eyes.

   “Are you kidding? This is way better than dealing with Mike for another week.” Martyn snorts and I manage a little huff of a laugh. “But in all seriousness, that is a pretty good reason to be pissed.” I nod into the junction of his arm and shoulder. We sit there for a while, slipping into a simple conversation about Martyn’s weeks in Brixton and how Mike was a total twat and how the editing process is going. I liked that he could do that, ease me out of the tension of my day and allow me to relax into something trivial and easy. 

   “So, are we ever going to Valentino’s or we’re you just teasing in your note?” I smile and it’s almost like our signal, my way of telling Martyn I’m okay now and that we can move on without out ever breaking the calm spell he’s managed to weave.

   “Only if you let me put mushrooms on the pizza.”

   “Only on your half, you monster!”

\---

   A majority of my life has been spent looking at shoes. From Converse to knock off Uggs, noting scuff marks and shoe laces barely tied. See, I had a nasty habit of keeping my head down. I didn’t like making eye contact with so many people and it wasn’t like I had any friends to look out for. And because of this lack of awareness to my surroundings, I was very easy to make a jump on.

  “Phil!” A voice I had hoped to never hear again calls out to me and I tense up. I almost freeze but end up giving into my instinct of  _ flight.  _ One punch was  _ fight  _ enough to last me a few more decades.

  I dart between people, watching shoes and moving to avoid them. I gauge which direction they’re pointed, how fast they’re moving and the best route to keep increasing the distance between me and the voice still trying to get my attention. But all is for nothing when Dan uses his magic ability to part the crowds of the halls with the power of just his glare and closes the distance between them.

  “Phil!” A hand I’ve come to know too well clamps down on my shoulder, halting me in my escape. Surprising though is that he doesn’t yank me to turn around just keeps his grip firm. “Phil, I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I think I made it pretty obvious that I don’t want to talk based on the whole running away thing.” I shrug off his hand and nearly have a mental break when it simply falls away.

  “I always sort of knew just going ahead and kissing you wouldn’t work, that’s too much like a movie script, you know?” Dan sighs behind me and I want to cut in and give him  _ another  _ piece of my mind, but something stops me, tells me to wait this out, “I was just hoping I- I don’t really know. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”

  I turn around, shocked by the omission, but not as shocked as when I catch sight of Dan’s expression. He looks so  _ shamed.  _ It was like he had been rebuked by God himself and here Dan was trying to atone for his sins.

  “I know you’re mad, Phil, you every reason to be mad at me-”

  “Mad? Dan, I’m pissed.” I hissed, glaring at him despite the little bit of my heart longing to just forgive him and avoid all of this conflict. Dan’s eyes snap up to mine, shocked that I even responded.

  “And you’re right to be! I fucked up and I am so sorry.” Dan holds out his palms in a pleading gesture. His face is so open and soft, nothing like his usual glare or stern looks. It broke Phil’s heart.

  “That really doesn’t matter, okay? I don’t care if you apologize because you have caused so many problems for me that I just can’t, Dan.” I sigh and Dan seems to crumble under the weight of my words. But that seems to slowly lift and Dan looks at me, nothing but determination to be found.

  “I’ll prove it, I know you don’t believe my words, but I’m gonna prove it, okay?” Dan starts nodding, like he’s talking to himself more than me. His eyes start to go a little out of focus when he seems distracted by his own thoughts as her turns to leave. “I’m going to prove how much I want to fix this. I promise.”

  Before I can get another word in, Dan is hurrying down the hall, parting the halls with his fast pace and determined look.

 

\---

 

  I’m pretty sure the majority of the student body have a heart attack with a side of double-take the next Monday when Dan comes to school. Why, you may ask? Because Dan just isn’t  _ Dan.  _ Gone are the black skinny jeans and leather jacket and in with blue (still skinny) jeans and a colorful t-shirt displaying Howl’s Moving Castle. The eyeliner had also failed to appear, leaving just lovely, almond-shaped eyes. Without the lines of black, Dan’s eyes looked brighter, their color warmer and more welcoming. 

  “Hi, Phil.” Dan smiles, maybe a little shy, fingers playing with the hem of his colorful tee.

  “Dan?” I couldn’t help my wide eyes or the way my jaw probably hung just a little bit. I didn’t fully understand who this was in front of me. This wasn’t Dan. Dan was abrasive and rough and cold. The boy in front of me was soft and warm, open and just on my side of timid. 

  “Do you like Howl's Moving Castle?” He asks, eyes now flickering up to me, all bright and excited, if a little hesitant. 

  “How did you know?” I ask, squinting my eyes in suspicion, “I swear, Dan, if this is some kind of trick-”

  “No, no, no,” Dan eyes go wide and he shakes his hands out as if to dislodge the very idea, “I actually like Studio Ghilbi and I was wondering if you did because I saw a Calicfer keychain on your keys one time in science last year.” Dan rambles a little breathlessly. I stand there for a moment, still eyeing Dan and his t-shirt.

  “Which one is your favorite?”

  “No! I sound like such a fake fan.” Dan groans, facepalming as I cross my arms and wait for an answer. Finally, Dan mumbles something to his feet.

  “I can’t hear you, Dan.” Dan looks up, blushing  a little.

  “Totoro.” He’s still quiet, like this was something he didn’t often tell others. You can’t really blame me for smiling.

  “The cat bus use to creep me out when I was younger.” Dan’s head snaps up with a look of shock and awe. It’s an olive branch. It doesn’t mean all that much, but it’s something, the act of acknowledging Dan’s attempt at amends.

 

\---

 

  “Hi, Phil!” The cheerful greeting never fails as I pass Dan in the hallway. When this first began, I just shot Dan a really confused look if I managed to look up at all. Now I found myself searching the B wing hallway where I knew our paths crossed during passing period. It made the project easier to complete with this new, easy sort of coordination between us. We had gotten a ninety-two percent, so I’d say we worked well together. It was a strange transition and one that I couldn’t find in myself to hate. 

  “Hey, Dan.” I wave at him as he passes and his face lights up like a Christmas tree after dark and I can’t stop nor do I want to stop that smile that spreads across my own face. That’s where things change, at least according to this pseudo-schedule we had going for us. Dan stops, turning to follow me n my way and I slow down to accommodate him catching up. 

  “So, Phil, would, uh, would you like to eat lunch with, well, me today?” His question is soft and I almost don’t hear him over the lulling din of the hallway around us. “I mean, you don’t have to or anything, but I would really-”

  “Sure. That’s sounds nice.” I cut off his impending ramble with a smile as I look at him, risking tripping over my own feet as I take my eyes off the road ahead of me. 

  “Oh, okay. Really?” His voice is so hopeful, so soft and so easily crushed and it kinda broke my heart but also warmed it.

  “Absolutely. Where should I meet you?” I ask casually, hoping my nonchalance will help put the newly reformed boy at ease.

  “I have Sanchez for fourth, so how about the D wing?” 

  “That’s perfect, cause I have Miller two doors down from you. See you then!” I wave over my shoulder as I slip into my class and let myself smile into the binder I hold close to my chest. Things may be looking up. 

\---

  “Arrrgggh.” I mush my face into my pillow, after flinging my backpack to the side and collapsing on my bed. 

  “That good, kiddo?” I lift my head to find Martyn leaning in my doorway with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face.

  “I don’t know what to do.” I groan out the last syllable and slam my face back into my pillow with yet another groan.   

  “Care you explain?” Martyn plucks himself down on the edge of my bed, patting my back a little. I huff before flipping over and looking at my big brother.

  “He’s so nice now.” I whine, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands. This was obviously very distressing for me and Martyn tried his best, patting my stomach now, making me swat at his hands because I was really not in the mood for this to turn into a tickle fight.

  “Who? That Dan kid?” Martyn’s eyebrows scrunch together while he recalls the Dan Talk from a couple months back. 

  “Yeah.”

  “And he’s being nice.”

  “Yep.”

  “And that’s bad why?” Martyn’s confusion drags through his question and I groan, trying to roll away but Martyn’s hand stops me.

  “I just, I don’t know what to do with it! He started wearing graphic tees and the eyeliner is gone and he smiles at me in the hallways and today, today! He asked to eat lunch with me! And I did, I sat down with him and we talked and we both like Muse and Dan insists he better at Mario Kart and I swore up and down that I would decimate him in Super Smash and he’s just aarrrgghh.” I throw my arm over my eyes like some Victorian maiden in distress, and screw it I am in distress. 

  “Sounds like he’s a nice guy.”

  “He is.” I continue with my over dramatic teenager groans.

  “And he said he was trying to prove he was sorry, right?”

  “Yeah, ‘cause he knew I didn’t really believe him when he said so.” I sigh, dropping my arm and meeting Martyn’s eyes.

  “Maybe it’s time you forgave him?” With that I get one more brotherly pat on the stomach before he leaves me to stew in my own thoughts. 

\---

  “Hey Dan!” I call out, ducking my head at the way everyone in the general vicinity turns to look at me. 

  “Hey Philly.” Dan smiles as he walks over to me. Today he has a shirt that advertises Blue Exorcist and I smile because it’s yet another thing we both love. “What’s up?” Have his eyes always sparkled like that? Like gold in sunlight? I remember once Dan had complained that his eyes were  boring and plain but right now, I could come up with hundreds of descriptors that were anything but. 

  “I was wondering if you wanted to come over after school. My brother wants to meet you and says you can stay for dinner.” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and wait for an answer. I rock on my heels a bit, waiting and finally look up to find a smile that nearly blinds.

  “You would really be alright with that?” He almost sounds breathless, but that couldn’t be right so I banish the thought.

  “Yeah, is mac and cheese okay?” 

  “Sounds perfect to me.” His dimples pop and I want to hug him because God, they were there and unabashedly so and for all the right kind of reasons. Oh God,  _ I _ was that reason. 

  “Cool, meet me at my locker after school and we can walk together?” Dan agrees just as the bell rings and we part ways.  _ Maybe it’s time you forgave him?  _ Yeah, maybe tonight was time.

\---

  “Hi, Dan, it’s very nice to finally meet you. I’m Martyn, Phil’s brother.” Martyn had picked up that habit ages ago - making sure people knew exactly how we were related. Dan shook his hand and smiled after introducing himself and stepping back and next to me. “Why don’t you two go show each other up in some video games and I’ll start dinner?” 

  “Don’t get used to that,” I tell Dan over my shoulder as we head for my room, “He’s only being the cool brother ‘cause it’s Friday and we have the whole weekend to finish homework.” When Dan doesn;t respond as we enter I turn to look at him.

  “Do you talk about me to your brother?” Dan’s eyes are a little wide and his voice squeaks a bit at the end and I can recognize a bit of panic when I see it.

  “Yeah, but no worries! All good things. Mostly about how jealous I am of your t-shirts so maybe he’ll buy me some and how you think you can beat me at Smash Bros.” And that’s how the next seven rounds of Smash Bros starts and I find yet again that it’s easy.That this, whatever it is, with Dan is easy and it flows like it was a river always suppose to be here but someone just tore down the dam. I’ve lost, for a score of really who cares when I see Dan’s smile as he woops in victory.

  “Hey, Dan?” I catch his attention and he turns to look at me. We’re both propped against my headboard, sitting with our legs stretched out in front of us. His skin is practically glowing as it catches the last rays of sun falling through my window and past the curtains. 

  “Yeah, Phil?” He blinks a couple times, eyes wide waiting for a response, eyelashes far too long to be normal for a boy, but when has Dan ever been a normal boy?

  “I forgive you.” It comes out as a whisper but that doesn’t mean it loses any of the effect it has on Dan whose eyes widen even further. 

  “Really?” His voice is so small, still so timid. And maybe it’s hard to believe words for Dan too, maybe actions speak better for him as well. So, I nod and scooch over until our thighs touch and lean over at a snail’s pace. I notice the way Dan’s hands twitch as if wanting to touch, but he holds back. So, this was going to be at my pace? I could go for that. 

  “Dan? May I kiss you?” He nods and I can’t keep the glacier pace any longer, I press forward as fast as possible and we clash in a painful smack of teeth and noses and laugh a bit before finally finding each other somewhere in the middle. It’s soft and slow and Dan’s timid with the way he moves. I’ve come to realize how careful he is with everything, approaches everything with a reserved sort of tenderness that I want to protect and never see encased in black again.

  I dare to move a bit more, pushing myself forward just a bit and grab his hip and squeezing. The pressure and the one finger that makes it accidentally under his shirt is enough to make him gasp a little and I take it as my opportunity to swipe the tip of my tongue across not quite chapped lips. Dan opens up easy enough, pliant and willing as I delve into the wet heat of his mouth. 

  It’s nice, so much nicer than before. I sigh into it and I sink further into arms wrapping around my shoulders and swing one leg over Dan’s lap. There isn’t any pressure to push further and the ease of it all is what makes the pounding of my heart bearable. But everyone needs to breathe at some point, so I pull back with a wet pop that makes me giggle. Dan’s eyes are still closed but his lips are a pleasant shade of red and a blush splotches against his cheeks and adorably in one little patch in his jaw. I can’t help it but to duck down and kiss the little patch, making Dan laugh.

  “I’m forgiven?”

  “Yeah, absolutely.” I nod, unable and unwilling to wipe the smile off my face. I lean down and peck him a few more times for good measure, his lips, his cheek, the barest corner of his mouth.

  “I’m gonna love the hell out of you.” He tells me, pulling me close until I collapse on top of him, but that seems to be where he wants me, if the grip around my shoulders is anything to go off of.

  “By the golden rule that means I should love you , right?” I mumble into his shoulder.

  “I sure hope so.” The reply comes and I smile. Dan wanted to be loved, and I’d love him. I’d love him for forever if he’d let me. I really hope he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooo,  
> So, I hope you liked it? If there's anything like majorly wrong please tell me and I'll fix it!! Oh and if you liked it please hit that kudos and hit me up with some commentary because constructive critisism is my life force honestly. So, thanks for the read :))
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr @comeforfriends (I still don't know how to make that a link...)


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